ScarySue
by ardavenport
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself the prisoner of a woman strongly obsessed with him. Obi-torture. Some Harry Potter cross-over.
1. Chapter 1

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

- - - Part 1 - - -

There was a disturbance in the Force.

Twenty-two year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi stared out over the forested hills below, his senses reaching as far as possible, his eyes unfocused. He felt no center, no place for it. It was something otherworldly and elusive. He looked down toward where his Master secured their ship, the tall grasses and twisted dark green bushes that clung to the hillside obscuring his view. He took out his com.

"Qui-Gon?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan," came the answer immediately.

"There is a disturbance in the Force."

". . . . . . Yes. Yes, there is. Be mindful Obi-Wan. I am not picking up any life forms or technology in the area on our ship's sensors and the Segoreth are not expected for several days, but there may be other unwelcome guests who wish to invite themselves to our meeting. I shall be up presently with the rest of our things."

"Understood."

Obi-Wan put the com back in his belt pouch, feeling better for the confirmation of the acuity of his senses, but concerned that Qui-Gon Jinn did not see its source any more clearly. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and inhaled deeply through his nose. This disturbance had a taste to it. Organic but of otherness, distinct from the scented air of grasses and moisture and the growing things of the planet.

He turned around and looked through the open door of the simple cabin that he and his Master would occupy until their meeting with the Segoreth. He saw nothing changed, but somehow. . . . he knew that something occupied space there that hadn't been a moment ago. Unclipping his lightsaber, he cautiously went up the three steps of the cabin, his boots thumping quietly on the pre-fab material of the covered porch. His weapon held ready, he entered.

He saw nothing except the pile of their equipment, his robe on top, in the middle of the cabin's single main room, daylight pouring in from large windows from the front and both sides. A light breeze blew in behind him from the open door, cooling the back of his neck. Closed doors lined the far wall, a fresher and three full length storage compartments. Taking a few more steps into the room, he extended his hand, the Force pushing outward, finding the right hidden catch.

The fresher door whooshed open.

Nothing. Just the usual fixtures, the small compartment well lit with tall frosted windows.

He extended his hand to the compartment on the right of the fresher.

Nothing. A shallow cabinet with naked light blue shelves. Not even dust.

He extended his hand to the compartment on the far left.

Nothing. An empty alcove, half as large as the fresher with bare, pale yellow overhead shelves.

He extended his hand to the middle compartment, with the largest door, just to the left of the fresher.

Nothing.

Obi-Wan stared wide-eyed at an unnatural and empty darkness, black and impossibly deep. Like a door into space itself, but devoid of stars and stellar dust. The edges of the door blurred, as if the blackness were creeping out toward him to consume the light of the world.

He whirled, his lightsaber hissing on, defending against the motion behind him.

" - - bif-FAAAIIIII!!!!!"

Something unseen slammed into his whole body, stunning every stinging nerve, paralyzing him. His lightsaber went out, flying out of his hand. He heard it thunk against a wall. As his body flew back into the enveloping blackness, he glimpsed a short black clad figure, hazy around the edges from the light of the front window behind it, its arm extended toward him.

Then the blackness claimed him.

His last thoughts grasped at one certainty.

Whatever had struck him, had not been the Force.

- - - to be continued - - -


	2. Chapter 2

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

- - - Part 2 - - -

" - - - er-vate."

Obi-Wan recognized the voice. Flat feminine tone. Moderate. Average. Human? But he had heard it differently. Not spoken as it was now. Shouted.

Eyes opening wide, Obi-Wan stared up at a blue, ruffled curtain above.

It was the same voice he had heard just before. . . . .

Head turning to either side, he saw no one. But. . . . .

. . . . he was being watched.

He lifted his head, but restraints held him down, pinning his body, sinking him into a soft yielding padding. Thick pink cords over his chest held him down and looped around his naked arms and wrists holding them away from his body. More cords held his legs down, above and below his knees and around his bare ankles, spreading them shoulder width apart.

His lightsaber was gone. And his clothes and boots. He only wore pants. He saw nothing familiar around him.

His head fell back, sinking into a soft pillow.

He had been stripped, disarmed, searched. . . . and examined. Thoroughly. He could feel it. He had been touched, breathed upon. Everywhere. Even his hair. His Padawan's lock had been untied and combed flat on the back of his head. His long thin braid trailed over his shoulder onto his chest.

Looking all around him, Obi-Wan saw a windowless room with smooth walls, patterned with faded leaves and flowers, and various pieces of wooden furniture, all darkly polished and ornately carved with curls and intricate shapes. Shaded lighting units stood on some of the tables, dark shadows under them. A wavering yellow light illuminated the shadows from the far side of the room and he heard the crackling of a tame fire. But the largest furnishing seemed to be the enormous square sleeping platform he was tied down on. Tall carved posts at each corner held up a canopy overhead, frilled with lacy curtains with blue and black ribbons.

Obi-Wan tested his bonds, thinking that he would just wiggle out of them, but they seemed to hold him fast no matter which was he twisted or pulled. Though he felt no hard core to them, they always contracted and tightened just enough to keep him in place, yielding to him a little, smooth and frictionless, but clinging and strong. Almost alive.

Closing his eyes, he searched in the Force for a locking mechanism, but found none at all. His bindings twined down around the frame of the sleeping platform. He felt the Force, pulsing strongly inside him, but outside him. . . . .

His mind clear, Obi-Wan sensed the Force moving sluggishly around him. Weak, lethargic, dim.

His eyes snapping open, he gasped in air, realizing that he had been holding his breath. He had never, ever been in such a place, where the Force itself could be so affected. He had always believed that this was impossible, that if the Force flowed weakly, it was the focus of the Jedi at fault. But Obi-Wan did not feel weak or distracted. His heart beat strongly in his chest. Pounding too fast. He breathed deeply to calm an emerging panic.

His head jerked up, his eyes catching a motion on his right, in the shadows past the curtain and one heavy canopy post.

Qui-Gon. . . . . ?

But his Master was not there. Obi-Wan could not feel his presence. Anywhere. Nor could he even sense the living world of the planet. He took another calming breath.

"Hello?" he called out. He heard movement now, cloth against cloth, the sound of hesitation.

"Hello?," he called again. "Is anyone there?" he asked though he knew well that there was. Someone small and uncertain. Human. Afraid. Excited. Female.

An eye peaked around the curve of a curtain drape, bue like the velvety covering under him, like the curtain and the padding on the chairs in the room. Long, wavy brassy blond hair hung down on one side. She slowly revealed herself. Smooth face, pale skin. Young curvy body. Square jaw with lips pressed together. A long deep blue tunic covered her from neck to floor; close fitting sleeves covered her arms leaving only her hands visible. Blue and purple jewels glinted from golden rings on her fingers.

"Hello," Obi-Wan greeted her with a smile. "I don't suppose you can set me free? It's a bit uncomfortable being tied up like this."

"I - I'm not supposed to let you up. My Master would be angry with me," she stammered shyly.

Lie.

Though sluggish and unresponsive, the Force still revealed the essence of her true sentiments to him. She knew more than she said. She controlled more than she said. And wanted to conceal her intentions from him.

And her voice had been the last thing he had heard before waking up in this strange room.

He wondered if there really was a 'Master' for her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said agreeably, playing along with her pretense. "Can you tell me why I'm not allowed up? I have a Master, too, and I need to contact him."

She shook her head, her long hair waving from side to side. Then she brushed it back behind her ear on one side, a nervous gesture. She feared being found out, which seemed odd to Obi-Wan since he was so thoroughly bound. The same unworldliness that he had tasted outside on the planet thickened the air and clouded the Force in this place. She was of the same substance.

"Are you allowed to tell me your name? Mine is Obi-Wan," he offered.

A hint of a smile touched her lips.

"I'm. . . . . Susan," she answered. There was more to her name, but he doubted it would mean anything to him. He had never seen her before.

"Susan," he repeated. "Can you sit at least and tell me who you are. Or tell me why I am here? What your Master wants with me?"

Her blue eyes darted to a chair by a darkly ornate desk. She moved sideway to it and sat down on the edge of the seat, her hands pressed down in her lap.

"I don't know what my Master wants with you. I've just been told to. . . .care for you while you're here." She looked embarrassed. More importantly, Obi-Wan sensed that she really was embarrassed, but her thoughts tumbled around many things hazy and indistinct to him.

"Oh. Well can you at least let me sit up? I'd be so much more comfortable if I could." His eyes locked on hers, his thoughts fixed on how much better she would like to see him sitting up. "I'm sure your Master won't mind if I'm just sitting up." But the Force hardly stirred, not connecting to her at all. But her eyes widened with surprise.

She had felt something.

She bolted to her feet.

"I have to go," she said hastily, averting her eyes from him.

"Wait!" he said. Too quickly. Diffused as it was, his attempt to influence her collapsed.

"I have to go," she almost apologized, the skirt of her long tunic rustling around her legs as she quickly went to a wall and touched the frame of a picture of green fields and blue sky, tilting it to the side. A section of the patterned wall silently swung out.

"Wait!"

Her eyes darting to him and away, she disappeared behind the section of wall. It swung back into place with a soft click without leaving even a visible seam to show where it was.

Frustrated, Obi-Wan's head fell back on the pillow and he tugged hard on his bonds. They tightened, flattening around limbs and across his bare chest until he relaxed again. Having relieved his impulse for some - - any - - action he turned his senses inward. To himself and the Force.

His mind still, he perceived the Force infusing his body with its vital energy, but beyond the limits of his flesh it felt murky and strange with the same flavor that the had first detected on the planet. It tasted stale in the back of his mouth though he knew that was only his interpretation of it. No better or worse, the life-energy of this place differed fundamentally from his own. The otherness surrounding him clashed with his own inner senses, the mis-match producing the feeling of an oily film wherever his body touched it.

Going further inward, he looked for ways where the Force and this semi-Force were the same where he could access it. . . . .

A soft click immediately brought him back to the room of his confinement. The section of wall had opened and a long ear near the floor poked out from behind it.

Obi-Wan started. Master Yoda. . . . .?!

But the creature that emerged had long arms and legs and bulging globe-like eyes, dashing Obi-Wan's sudden, irrational hope.

Carrying a silver container with a handle, a white cloth and a tube, it shambled over to him and hopped up onto the side of the sleeping platform he lay on. Even with his senses through the Force dulled, the fear emanating from this creature surprised him. This being lived with misery and fear for every moment of its existence. A ragged, miserable dingy rag tied around its middle covered its lower body, but otherwise it was naked. Aged, grayish-green flesh wobbled from a jowly face and hung from stick-like legs and arms. A cloud of white fuzz drifted around the base of the being's skull.

"Mistress," it said in a high-pitched, yet distinctly male voice, "has ordered Flekky to see to her guest's needs. If guest needs to relieve himself."

'Flekky' held up the container and length of white tubing apologetically.

Treacherously, Obi-Wan's bladder immediately demanded attention.

"I'd rather be let up to do that," he answered honestly. But Flekky sadly shook his head, his long Yoda-like ears waving with the motion.

"Mistress has forbidden that," he squeaked.

"What does the Master say?"

Another head shake. "No, Master. Except for you. Just the Mistress," he answered, confirming Obi-Wan's suspicions.

"Well," he replied, speaking carefully, reasonably, "if I'm the Master, then I'm sure that Mistress would want you to untie me. In fact, she'd be terribly upset with you if you didn't."

Flekky trembled, apparently very fearful of 'Mistress' being upset, but Obi-Wan's weak attempt to influence him failed completely. Under normal circumstances, Obi-Wan felt certain that this subservient being would be easy for him to influence, if he could just manage the discordant flow between himself and his surroundings.

"Mistress would be _very_ angry with Flekky if he let her guest up. Mistress has prepared everything very carefully."

Flekky suddenly covered his mouth. "But Flekky is not supposed to speak to her guest!" He suddenly raised his skinny arm and brought the silver container down on his head with the sickening sound of hard metal on skull. "Flekky. . . . must. . . . not. . . . be. . . . bad," he said, punctuating each word with each loud thunk.

Speechless to witness this extreme self-flagellation, Obi-Wan stared at the poor creature. Cross-eyed, Flekky offered the container and tube again.

Obi-Wan only fleetingly thought of urinating in place on the sleep platform to force 'Mistress' to let him up, but he was not nearly that desperate, yet. And he dreaded what Flekky would do to himself if he did. He politely accepted.

Flekky hopped close to his lower body, found the fly opening of his pants, attached the close-fitting tube and then scampered over the side of the platform with the other end of the tube to allow Obi-Wan to fill the container, which he did. Once finished, Flekky hopped back up, detached the tube, wiped everything with the cloth he carried, which was damp and florally scented. Then Flekky tucked everything back into place and jumped back to the floor. Collecting the cloth, tube and container, Flekky went back to the concealed door, which had closed behind him. Obi-Wan watched with interest.

Flekky, too short to reach so high, even with his long arms, pointed a long bony finger at the picture frame.

It tilted.

Obi-Wan tensed and pulled at his bonds as Flekky left, the door swinging shut behind him, the opening vanishing into the wall again. Falling back into the soft padding and pillow that bulged all around him, he stared up at the shadowed blue canopy above and tried to assimilate what he had just witnessed.

The Force _was_ there and accessible, but strangely masked from him by the different flows of this world. He just needed figure out how he related to it.

He looked to either side of him. Aside from the carved furniture and patterned walls, he saw several cabinets and shelves of ornaments of no obvious practical use. He settled on a small rounded one on a table next to a lighting unit stand. It appeared to be a stylized representation of a fat animal with rotund pale pink body, short legs and flattened snout, with a little hat on its head and green bow around its neck.

Relaxing his whole body, breathing deeply, Obi-Wan flexed his hand, the palm open wide and welcoming for the little animal ornament.

Nothing happened. It remained cheerfully under the light, its painted lips grinning broadly.

This was expected. Obi-Wan concentrated on what he felt as much as calling the object to him. The Force outside his body remained sluggish and . . . . . alien.

Obi-Wan never imagined in all his years of Jedi training that he would ever think about the Force that way. He needed no other confirmation that he was somehow in a different world. A different galaxy? Another reality? He could not imagine how this could happen, but he did not dwell upon the impossibility of his situation. It was what it was.

Unfortunately, if he was so far away from his own world would Qui-Gon be able to find him? This thought distracted his concentration. Qui-Gon had sensed the same disturbance in the Force. He would look for him. But could be follow? Cross the black void? Could he survive it? Would that path even still be there?

Obi-Wan cleared his mind, banishing the useless speculation. Qui-Gon would try to find him. He would concentrate on being as ready as possible for any rescue led by his Master. Obi-Wan's attention again narrowed to the pink animal ornament again. He closed his eyes, seeing it through the Force alone. Small, round, hollow. But the image wavered randomly, confusing it with other things in the room, sometimes becoming a bulging many-pointed mass that made no sense to him. He lacked the proper focus.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan flexed his hand, now sore from being held rigid for so long, waiting for the ornament that eluded his grasp, only a few steps away. The tension told him how badly attuned he was to his surroundings. A Jedi used lightsaber, body and especially hands to guide and be guided by the Force. But it was different here. He was missing something.

Movement caught his attention again.

- - - to be continued - - -


	3. Chapter 3

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

- - - Part 3 - - -

The concealed door in the wall swung open. Susan appeared from behind it. She wore the same deep blue, floor-length tunic, but her golden hair was tied back and she carried a tray. The door swung shut behind her.

Obi-Wan watched her go to a side table with her tray, its contents gently clattering as she set it down. He heard water dripping.

"My Master does want you to be comfortable," she began, turning back to him. She held a thick white cloth in her hands. Obi-Wan lifted his head from the pillow and glared back.

"You don't have a Master. Your servant, Flekky, told me that," he told her, no longer seeing any benefit to playing along with her.

She stared back, her eyes wide and frightened. Turning away from him, she put the cloth back. He heard a clatter, a splash and an angrily whispered, "Stupid house elf!"

"You might as well tell me what you want, Susan," he said, hoping to use surprise alone to take control of the situation, his ability to influence her still blunted by the strangeness of this world. Her shoulders hunched, but she did not turn around again.

"You could just let me go now," he offered, not wanting to corner her. "I could just take my things and leave and there would be no more of this." He knew that just leaving could be dangerous, since she could change her mind and come back after him, but Obi-Wan instinctively knew that he would be safer in his own world than hers.

She did not respond. Her thoughts ranged over many options that he could not discern, but he sensed that none of them involved letting him go. His head fell back on the soft pillow and he waited for her to decide.

"Your mind tricks won't work on me," she finally said, turning to him, "Jedi." Her expression was set, petulant. "I've done a lot to bring you here. I'm not giving that up now."

"But just what are you giving up?" Obi-Wan countered. "What can you possibly gain from any of this?"

She smiled and the expression looked cruel to him. "You." She reached into a concealed side pocket of her tunic and withdrew a small thin stick, less than twice the length of her hand. She walked slowly toward him, her fingers caressing the stick.

"I guess my aunt was right," she said, "it's much better to play the villain." She extended the stick, running its tip under his chin and then under the length of his braid. "Your powers don't work in here, Jedi. But _mine do_." She withdrew the stick, flipping the tail of his braid aside.

"You want to be let up?" she asked in a tone that made him not want that at all. She stepped back and pointed the stick at him.

"Releaccio!"

Yellow light shot out over him, prickling his skin. The bonds flew off his body and disappeared over the edge of the sleep platform.

"Immobulus!"

Before he could react, sparkling orange enveloped him. Energy and air sealed him in place more thoroughly than the cords; he couldn't move. He could still breath and blink, but he couldn't move his jaw, his mouth still open in surprise. All his muscles tensed futilely against the glowing barrier around him. His sense of otherness of the life-energy of this world magnified almost painfully. It manipulated and twisted reality with no limit or sense.

Susan stood over him, her arms crossed in satisfaction.

"I haven't really decided what I want from you," she said casually. He watched her stroll around the sleep platform behind the curtain. Then she pulled back the curtain at the far end of the sleeping platform and tied it back on one side, revealing the rest of the room. His eyes looking downward as far as he could since the strange force-field around him had fixed his head to the side, Obi-Wan saw more dark carved furniture, wall shelves and an active fire alcove.

"Maybe. . . . .," Susan began speculatively, looking up at the canopy. She pointed her stick at a cabinet in a far corner.

"Accio Lightsaber!"

An upper cabinet door slammed open and Obi-Wan's lightsaber came zooming out. Susan caught it with her free hand. She turned to him, smiling proudly, holding his lightsaber up to her breast.

_Words_, Obi-Wan realized. That was the element he was missing. The focus for the Force in this reality was words.

Apparently his rigid, fixed expression did not satisfy Susan. She pointed her stick at him again.

"Incarcerous!" she decreed. The bonds reappeared and wrapped themselves around him again.

"Releaccio!"

The sparkling orange vanished, sucked up into her stick. She gave it a little flourish and began pacing the room as she spoke.

"I think I might want you to show me how to use this," she speculated. "Or make my own. That would be most impressive. Of course, I don't know if it would really work here. But with my magic, I think we could make something very like it."

"That could be arranged, I suppose," Obi-Wan replied.

She stared back, obviously not believing him.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. We could begin right now. Accio Lightsaber!"

The lightsaber whipped away from her, flying into his waiting hand. He flicked it on. Then quickly down and up, cutting the bonds enough for him to jumps up. A few more easy swipes finished off the broken strands still trying to grasp for him like living snakes. He jumped down to the floor and, in a fighting stance, came around the canopy's end post, his saber up and ready, the bright blue beam easily outshining the dingy yellow light sources and fire of the room.

The weapon felt natural and more real than anything else he had encountered in Susan's room. It was from his world and it apparently retained that property. The Force felt strong in him and extended out from his blade.

Susan backed up, her eyes wide with terror.

"You can't do that!" she insisted. "You don't have a wand!"

Obi-Wan glanced at the stick clutched to her chest, her wand.

"Apparently I don't need one."

Susan's arm shot out at him.

"Stupefy!"

Bluish light leaped from the end of the wand. Obi-Wan's lightsaber blade caught it easily. The two energies snapped and clashed badly. Obi-Wan could feel the impact all the way up his arm and he changed to a two-handed grip on the hilt, the plastoid and metal alternating warm and cool in his hands. It felt like rough slabs of rock grating against each other, neither power really stronger than the other, but different, their inherent natures refusing to mix.

The light bursting from Susan's wand ceased. Obi-Wan adjusted his stance, his lightsaber held securely in a vertical block between him and her. His eyes looked back into her fearful stare.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Obi-Wan's saber deflected and absorbed pink light and sparks this time. The energies spat and crackled, neither dominant nor subservient to each other. He could feel the dissonant friction in his teeth. But he realized that Susan did not. He connected to her through her attack and he sensed that her power, practiced and natural in this world, emanated from unconscious instinct. She knew the words, but her awareness hardly went any deeper than the heat and sparks of their confrontation.

She stopped again, now breathing hard. He took a step toward her.

"Impedimenta!"

Obi-Wan tripped, his legs flying out from under him from an invisible burst too diffuse for his lightsaber blade to catch. He automatically clicked off the saber blade. He lost his grip on the hilt as his back hit the floor, barely cushioned by a rug. He whirled his legs over him and caught Susan's legs as she tried to run past him. She went down with a squeal and he rolled over and caught her wrists. His fingers found the right nerves in her hand and he pressed hard. Susan's wand clattered on the floor.

Bigger and stronger than she was, he hauled her up to her feet and twisted both arms behind her. She cried out in pain but he did not relent. He knew that he was not dislocating anything, though it likely felt that way to her. He adjusted his grip to free one of his hands.

"Accio Wand."

Susan's wand flew up into his hand.

"Accio Lightsaber."

He heard it rolling on the wooden floor before it came up from under the bed. He caught it easily and held it with the wand. He never called things with the Force when he didn't know where they were. The powers of this world, so much more versatile and broad than those of a Jedi, surprised him, that they could be wielded so casually.

"Now, this is much better," he said cheerfully.

Susan cried and whimpered and squirmed weakly, her long wavy hair hanging down, covering her face. He pushed her around the canopied sleep platform toward the concealed opening. He tilted the picture frame and stood back as it swung outward.

"Nooooooooo, no, no, no!!!! You can't go through!!!!!" Susan cried.

Flekky looked up from the floor from where he had apparently been listening at the door. Ears down, the sad creature looked up at him with his large globe eyes. Beyond the elf, Obi-Wan saw a gray storage area full of boxes, canisters, trash and dust. A central stairway led upward to a shadowed and closed door.

"Flekky!!!! Stop him!!! Stop him!!!" Susan shouted, still wiggling in Obi-Wan's grasp and whimpering from the pain when he tightened his grip.

Flekky launched himself at Obi-Wan. He felt a few scattered teeth amidst soft gums that clamped onto his legs, not enough to hurt him, but he stumbled forward. Susan collided with the door frame, some part of her whacking against the hard surfaces. Obi-Wan fell forward onto his knees.

A film of red fell over his vision, his saber and the wand, suddenly slippery, fell out of his numb fingers. Wetness covered his face, cooling while a prickling heat in the core of his chest moved outward. He felt as if his skin was melting.

A small arm thrown across his chest pulled him back with a slapping wet sound. His legs broke at the knees; his muscles and tendons had gone soft, his bones brittle. Then the prickling under his skin began. Pain delayed, like a deep searing burn. He gasped and gurgled, something split open inside him, letting fluid ooze into his lungs. He gasped again, trying to pull in air with muscles flacid and weak. The pain inside spread, as if the strangeness of this world had torn a hole and now poured its molten essence into him. It was killing him.

His vision darkened to deep blood-red, then black.

Susan's screaming filled his ears.

- - - to be continued - - -


	4. Chapter 4

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

- - - Part 4 - - -

" . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius - - - "

"Rejuvanitus!"

" . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . ."

Each word, each syllable pulsed with returning pain in his lungs, his arms. The fire in his chest spread to his legs, his knees, his splintered bones, the pieces placed properly for reassembly, but still separate in soft mushy flesh.

Words, he thought. They were just shallow words. Spoken by two voices, Susan and another woman, an older, stronger one, who spoke them with more understanding, more experience, but still. . . .

. . . .they didn't know anything about the Force.

He inhaled as deeply as he could, having to pull the air in though a sagging airway, lungs clotted with blood and globby wreckage.

"Something's happening!" the other woman spoke. "Keep going. Rejuvanitus!"

" . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius - - - "

The air came in more easily. The Force was still strong in him.

"Rejuvanitus!"

The words, the weird energies that he supposed amounted to the Force to Susan, now found their way into his body, into the damaged cells, pure energy aligning the things that were broken, bent, raw.

Obi-Wan saw inwardly, forests of crushed blood vessels, bubbling air sacks deep in his lungs, stirred with new purpose, healing. The stress on his undamaged organs lessened, the heat of urgency diverted into more healing.

"Yes! It's working!" the other woman exclaimed. "Rejuvanitus!" she continued, completely misreading what was happening.

She only knew the words.

" . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . vitalis sustanitus . . . . . revivitus corpuscilius . . . . !"

With each inward breath, Obi-Wan felt his body righting itself, the Force guiding the words to their tasks. The agony intensified, but it was the pain of rebuilding. His lungs inflated, his ribs hardening again with the popping of joints returning to their places.

The energy surrounded him, held him weightless up in the air between the two women. The skin on his face flushed, his confused nerves tender and new again. The cartilage of his nose solidified, stretching upward to its proper place. His teeth, sunken downward onto the mass of his tongue, found their roots, which sent lancing pain up and down through his skull from his restored jaw. The pools of ooze and fluid reformed back into his eyes in their sockets, under lids sticky with blood.

"Keep going!" the other woman snarled. "Brackium Emendo!"

The word-energy touched his legs, first one knee, then the other, the Force inside him guiding it to its task, reassembling the ends of his leg bones, his kneecaps, tendons stretching and tightening, sore with spasms of new growth and the aching need for movement.

"Restoratum humortorius!"

Obi-Wan's senses stretched outward, his awareness expanding so he could see the glowing outline of a body hovering under a canopy, supported by the twisting, penetrating energies of two woman with wands. The Force-image receded as he seemed to rise above Susan's room to see two silvery paths leading through black and unnatural tunnels, one leading to a flat gray world. But the other led to . . . . his own world, like a lifeline to a bright shore. And there waiting on a planet, on a hillside in a cabin that flowed with the Force. . . . .

. . . . .Qui-Gon.

Waiting. Unable to pass whatever barriers Susan had put up against him. But sensing that his Padawan had fallen into some trap. Sitting on the floor of the cabin, facing the black void, sensing the silver trail that led to . . . . .

[i]. . . . .Obi-Wan?[/i]

The familiar voice of his Master, speaking his name, aware of his presence - - -

"Restoratum Saguinis!"

"Aaaaaaah!" Blood rushed into his nerves all at once, driving a startled cry from his throat. He tensed, his body desperate to thrash out its new vitality, but an invisible barrier imprisoned him like a shell; he could only flex and shudder violently in place.

"That's it, stop!"

The words halted, but the shell remained, translucent energy raking over his body. Pain lanced through his muscles, arcing outward before rapidly subsiding. He saw pings of random light on the inside of his eyelids.

"Aaaaaaaaah," the other woman sighed, the sound full of weariness. "That's the worst magical injury I've ever seen since Strumigras Grumley turned his wife inside out."

Obi-Wan felt a pair of broad meaty hands on the right side of his stomach, a healer feeling out her work. He panted, his body still trembling. Then a smaller pair of hands on his left side. . . . Susan. She had touched him before. Her fingers now communicated an essence of possessiveness.

"Now what happened here, Susan? That house elf of yours showed up after you missed your shift at St. Mungo's, blithering about some sort of emergency and dragged me here to find you with this poor devil. And then you tell me I can't use any potions on him. What have you been doing?"

"He can't have anything from here. It would kill him," Susan whined.

"There's nothing wrong with [i]my[/i] potions," the woman sounded offended.

"It's not [i]your[/i] potions that's the problem. He can't have anything from here. He's only protected if he's in this room. That's what happened; he tried to leave." Susan paused for a sob and wet sniffle.

"Well, where did you get that water come from? We didn't have any problem using that."

"From him," Susan shot back miserably. "I got it from him. I transfigured it . . . . from his urine."

"What? Well, I suppose that would do. . . . . . if we were in the middle of a burning desert. But we're not! I don't understand. What's so special about this place? Those were some pretty strange looking charms your house elf had to take me through to come down here. And if he can't leave this room then just where did he come from?"

Obi-Wan heard anger creeping into her voice with no sympathy for Susan's tears.

"He's. . . . from another world. That's what this room is. It's a bridge between our world and another."

"What?! Oh, you couldn't possibly do this kind of magic. You're barely keeping up as a healer's apprentice!"

"It was my aunt's. It came with the house!" Susan insisted. Obi-Wan heard her moving toward the other woman, imploring her.

"Your aunt? The one who was so high in the Ministry? She did all this?"

"No! She got it from her great-grandmother."

"Oh, and then you inherit it and try it on for size? You almost got that poor man killed!"

"I didn't mean to. . . ." Susan's excuses fell back into sobs again.

"Oh, that's the sorriest excuse I've ever heard." The other woman's footsteps receded. "We'll just see what the Ministry says about this. . . . " her voice came from beyond the door outside the room. Susan wailed after her.

He heard a crackle, then a loud snap.

- - - to be continued - - -


	5. Chapter 5

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

- - - Part 5 - - -

Obi-Wan was sure that he had heard a body hit the floor. Beyond Susan's room. But imprisoned in mid-air, he could not investigate, not even turn his head to look. But he did not feel as if there had been a death.

He flexed his muscles in place, the need for the relief of movement building up. He could open his mouth and he exhaled all he could to the Force. A muscle spasm started in his arms and moved to his stomach and legs, a mindless and painful random twitching. Cold suddenly taking him, he drew in air, but only shallowly, making his exhales less effective.

Still suspended in air, he trembled. His thoughts going inward, to the core of his body, he drew on the Force for warmth, for his damaged, bruised limbs, his thinned blood. It stopped his shivering, but little more. The Force of his own world tethered him to life and he clung to it, sustained, but too weakened now to follow it to full renewal. He felt as if he were floating in a lake, his nose and mouth just above the waterline, allowing him to breathe but not allowing him to rest and heal.

He didn't recognize the sound of footsteps until they come close. Susan had returned.

"Scourgify," she said. Some energy moved under him, rustling and snapping coverings. He smelled warm clean cloth. He felt dizzy.

"Descendo."

He sank lower; his muscles relaxed, as if their tension had been holding him up in the air. His back touched the cushioned surface of the sleep platform.

"Spongify."

A pillow materialized under his head which fell so deeply into it that it cradled his cheeks on both sides.

Susan moved near him. Water dripped. He felt a damp cloth on his face, wiping it, dabbing at the dried blood around his eyes. He wondered if this water was more of his recycled urine, or perhaps it was acceptable to clean him with water from her world?

He opened his eyelids, cracking the rime of blood around them. She dabbed it away. Blinking, he saw her with smeared vision, but clearly. He sharply blew out air from his nostrils, trying to dislodge the clots of blood and mucus clogging it. She cringed back. The tip of her wand touched his nose.

"Clensio."

Something drew away the crusted remains from his face and torso, a wavering silvery haze clouded his vision for a moment.

"Releaccio."

He saw a faint flash of transparent blue and the invisible shell around him vanished and his body relaxed more. Free to move at last, he no longer had the strength for it. She sat down, her weight tilting the cushioned surface he lay on toward her.

"You won't go away will you?" Susan almost pleaded. Her face looked red and splotchy.

"I don't' think I could," he admitted his lack of strength with a weak whisper. He could see the bruised black skin all around his eyes, shadowing everything he saw, the nearly solid mass of bruises on his chest and arms. The damage had gone deep, twisting his muscle and bone so badly that he knew he could never recover if he did not return to his own world. He would grow weak from rot and decay and despair if he stayed here in this room. He had touched the path back to his own reality through the Force, but now he could no longer feel it.

"What happened to your friend?" he asked, his eyes looking to her and away from his ravaged body.

"Caroline?" Susan looked confused for a moment. "Oh. The charms stopped her. There are protections on this place that my aunt's great-grandmother first set. To keep people from finding out about it. She's not hurt really, just confunded. But I had to apparait her back to her place. She won't remember any of this when she wakes up. I promise."

"Then you know that it's wrong for you to do this?"

Her dabbing hand stopped moving, her eyes stricken. She withdrew from his question, but seemed to not be able to look away from him. She had dark blue eyes that Obi-Wan supposed were similar to his Qui-Gon's, but only in color.

His shivering returned, forcing him to break eye-contact first.

"Oh!"

Susan jumped up and reached toward his feet. She brought up layers of thick insulating coverings and smoothed them over him, tucking them in under his chin, pressing them down over his chest. Her hands were warm.

She hesitated to touch his face, her hand indecisively darting close and withdrawing. When her fingers finally lightly grazed his cheek his raw, tender skin hurt as if burned. She leaned over him, her hair irritating his neck, her caresses leaving long patches of pain as if she were scratching him. Her expression tender and loving, she gently smoothed his hair which also hurt, every root and follicle sore as she petted his head.

Too tired to argue or plead with her for his freedom, he closed his eyes, hoping that she would finish her show of affection. The heat from his body built up a comfortable warmth under the coverings that insulated him from her touch. Her wavy tresses of blond hair brushed down his temples and cheeks and her wet lips touched his forehead.

"How could this possibly be wrong?" she whispered, her warm breath caressing him far more gently than her hands. Then she sighed on him. And she curled his Padawan's braid around her fingers. Her emotions, love, lust, fear, wound up into a consuming hunger and misery that no Force could penetrate.

Obi-Wan could not speak, his throat suddenly tight, his eyes stinging. He withdrew his thoughts from her obsession and turned them inward toward the healing and rest that he needed so badly. He needed to regain his strength; it was his only hope.

She lingered another moment before finally pulling back. But not without painfully tugging on his braid as she disengaged it from her fingers. She remained, watching him. Obi-Wan wearily gave in to sleep with her by his side, her hand resting on the covering over his stomach.

* * *

~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~

* * *

The painful thump of impact on bone and flesh jolted Obi-Wan into a waking stupor. He did not know how long he had slept. But between the trauma to his body and the blood loss he was sure it had not been long enough.

"You haven't gotten that water yet?" Susan demanded. Thump. Flekky whimpered. "You useless thing!" Thump, thump. Obi-Wan opened his eyes a crack and tilted his head toward the noise in time to see Flekky cowering from his mistress's kicking feet. Thump, thump.

"Flekky try, Mistress Susan!" the small creature wailed. "But he never leaves! He never sleeps! He sees me!"

"He _can't_ see you through the shroud." Thump. "You can't get around him? You couldn't distract him? You couldn't think of something to draw him away for a few minutes to get that water? It's right next to the portal!" Thump.

"Flekky _try_, kind Mistress," he implored. "Flekky throws scary noises in the grasses outside. Flekky makes bangs on the roof. But he sits right at the portal. He never _moves_. Always, he is waiting. Always, he is watching. With his eyes." Fearfully, Flekky bulged his own globe eyes wide. "He _sees_." The servant trembled, his limbs close to his body protectively, ready for another kick. But Susan stomped off. The curtain blocked Obi-Wan's view of her.

"We - Need - That - Water," Susan declared angrily. Heavy fabric rustled and when she reappeared from behind the curtain, a black cloak and hood covered her. She touched a picture frame and a section of wall swung open on the opposite side of the room from the door into Susan's gray world.

Obi-Wan tensed. This section of wall opened away from him. He could see the black 'shroud' filling the doorway, the same bottomless blackness that he had first seen in the storage compartment of the cabin. Susan now stood before a rectangle of solid blackness. The portal that she had pushed him into. But seen from the other side.

"I'm getting it myself," she announced. Taking out her wand, she held it before her.

"Revelum!"

The blackness remained unchanged, but the air sparkled before her at eye level. He could not see what it showed from his angle, but Susan looked frustrated.

"It's morning already there. Doesn't he ever sleep?"

Obi-Wan knew that the 'he' who frightened Flekky and stymied Susan had to be Qui-Gon. Waiting for his chance to cross the shroud obscuring the portal.

Qui-Gon knew where he was.

He felt again the desperate need to move, but this time to leap up and bolt through the doorway back to his Master and into his own world. The Force was strong; he could feel it though the open portal. But his wounded body responded weakly, the Force still clouded to him. And Susan remained to stop him. Would there be other traps or 'charms' that would stop him, like they had her friend?

Closing his eyes, he saw the portal like a cloud over bright natural sunshine that drew him to it. The Force. His world. He needed them, as much as he needed to breathe.

_Qui-Gon. . . . _

In a rush, he felt his Master's awareness of him, his presence, his injuries, his entrapment. But Obi-Wan did not know how to warn him, did not know what Susan would do to Qui-Gon to get what she wanted.

_Your lightsaber can protect you . . . . ._

Obi-Wan perceived a tint of green - - lightsaber green - - in the portal cloud.

"That's not going to help you, _Master Qui-Gon_," Susan's voice sneered.

_How did she know. . . . ?_

"Wait," Susan said. "It's _raining_ out there. . . . . . get a bucket. Now." Thump.

Carefully peeking at the portal, he saw Susan, her face concealed by the black hood, still facing away from him and unaware that he watched.

A moment later, Flekky reappeared with a wooden bucket, almost as large as he was with a handle and banded with metal straps.

"Hold it there. Tilt it - - that way."

The house elf nervously positioned the bucket up to the portal, wisps of blackness like clinging smoke, pressed to him. Susan pulled her cloak more closely about her and stepped into the blackness.

No sight or sound followed; she just vanished completely as if absorbed into the portal. Flekky adjusted his grip on the bucket. Obi-Wan sensed alertness from Qui-Gon. Not panic, not action, but a long, cautious appraisal. Did he try to speak to Susan? Obi-Wan was not sure.

Cold! Wind! Wet!

A torrent of water shot into the bucket as Flekky frantically steadied himself to catch it.

Susan leaped out from the black portal.

"Haha! You're all wet now, Master!" she laughed, triumphant, throwing back her hood. "Put it over there," she instructed, pointing. Flekky tottered under the weight of the full bucket to where Obi-Wan couldn't see him, the curtain blocking his view while Susan whipped off her damp cloak.

"Exciatus Aquea!" Susan smartly rapped the wet cloak, orange energy flashed over it and she tossed the now dry clothing aside and disappeared from view. Disconsolate, Obi-Wan looked back toward the blackness of the portal.

"Expurgiate!" Susan ordered.

He heard the water in the bucket sloshing.

The cloudy blackness of the portal suddenly shot out in a long smoky column, tinted with green and the faint low power-hum of a lightsaber. The whole portal bulged outward and then just as suddenly contracted back to the doorway, again a solid barrier.

The green hue vanished with a snap.

Obi-Wan felt the Force beyond the portal but there was only frustration. A lot of frustration. And cold. Qui-Gon was very, very wet.

_I'm here. I'm safe._

"Obstipatius!"

The section of wall flew shut over the portal, the seams of the doorway vanishing. Obi-Wan's awareness of Qui-Gon's presence disappeared as well, as if clicked off with a switch. He gasped.

Susan rushed up to the wall, her hand balled up to her mouth and clutching her wand. Obi-Wan resumed his pretense of sleeping before her panicked eyes could see his wakefulness, but his mind grasped for the traces of his Master in the murky life-energies around him.

Then he stopped, freezing his thoughts and his sudden fear of abandonment. Panic would only obscure the Force more.

Obi-Wan ignored Susan's fearful, rapid breathing (and Flekky's whimpering) and turned his thoughts inward again. He felt depleted again after the brief hope of escape, the sense of his Master's closeness. But his knees were sore from the deep bruises around the re-knitted bones. From his chest up to his head, his flesh ached, his healing sluggish in this strange place with its words and clouded Force. His thoughts drifted. He needed rest. . . .

- - - to be continued - - -


	6. Chapter 6

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

- - - Part 6 - - -

Obi-Wan pulled his head away.

Susan was touching him again.

"It's all right, it's all right," she said, too closely above him.

He felt tired. He knew he had slept again, but it brought him no relief, as if his body had just lain inactive under the warm covers with no renewal. The air felt stale and used, as if it had been breathed over too many times in a small, closed room.

"Here."

Susan's arm lifted his head and she touched the lip of a cup to his mouth. The skin of his face had stopped hurting, but it felt tight and dry. Cool water touched his mouth and he drank. It tasted stale like the air, but it was liquid and it ignited a thirst in him. He tried to reach up to the cup, but the coverings impeded the motion. He had to rely on Susan to refill the cup and give him more. Refreshed but weakened just by sitting up, he rested his head on the nearest available surface, Susan's shoulder.

Her arm was bony but the fabric of her tunic soft and plush. She reached up and caressed his cheek.

"Your skin is so smooth. Are you allowed to grow a beard? You look nice in a beard," she said, gently stroking his chin and saying nothing about the bruises.

_How would she know that?_

"It's not customary for Jedi Padawans," he answered. "What is this place?" he asked since she seemed ready to talk. "I heard you tell your friend that you got it from your aunt."

She continued caressing his face. Her breath touched his hair before she dropped her hand and hugged him.

"It's the Fantasy Chamber. My aunt got it from her great-grandmother; she made it. And it came with the house. Great-Gran Nellie was a very powerful witch. So was Aunt Tillie." She said no more and Obi-Wan wondered if this meant that Susan, even with her abilities to transmute matter and manipulate life-energies, was not such a powerful witch.

"So, if this is a Fantasy Chamber, then I must be a fantasy," Obi-Wan speculated out loud. Susan hugged him again.

"I suppose you are to me."

"And that's why I can't enter your world," he concluded. "I don't belong there." A comfortable heat built up between them where their bodies touched through layers of clothing and coverings.

"Not without the right charms. Great-Gran Nellie could do it with just a flick of her wand. Tillie, too. I haven't worked out the knack of it from their diaries. But I will," she reassured him, ignoring the question of whether or not he should be there at all.

"Who were their victims?"

Susan paused, apparently caught off-guard by his suggestion that he was her victim. He was. Her embrace, her gestures to smooth over his hardship in her captivity, disheartened him.

"Great-Gran Nellie wanted to live out a Sherlock Holmes story. It worked fine until she found out he was such a prick. She used it to become part of some other books she loved, but she always felt like an intruder in the romances and the Dickens were tedious. She put all that work into it and it wasn't nearly as fun as she thought it would be. She didn't use it for decades until Aunt Tillie moved in to take care of her when she got older.

"She and my father grew up in a muggle family. No magic, since Nellie's son was a squib. So, they grew up watching all the muggle movies and television shows. And Aunt Tillie was a huge fan of _Star Trek_. She loved it and when Nellie showed her the Fantasy Chamber, she knew just what to do with it.

"She opened up a portal on a planet and captured Mister Spock for days. At least until Captain Kirk and the others figured out a way to get him back. But that was just because Tillie let them. She had a whole story about her being a trans-dimensional traveler 'studying' primitive Humans, evaluating their galaxy for an invasion. Nellie pretended to be her servant. They both had a wonderful time doing it. They reappeared several times to 'test' the 'primitives'. Of course, it was always the _Enterprise_.

"And they had fabulous outfits. All bright colors and shiny fabrics and stiff bodices. And Tillie had a lot of cleavage that Kirk and McCoy used to stare at. And Chekov, but he was just a kid. Nurse Chapel _really hated_ Tillie, too.

"Tillie said that Nellie seemed so young after one of their games. Her last years were very happy." Susan sounded wistful. From his place, head resting on her shoulder, Obi-Wan could see that Susan's figure took after her aunt's.

"What happened? Is Tillie here? She's not pretending to be Flekky, is she?"

"No!" Susan ruffled his hair. "Tillie died, of scrumping warts of all the silly things. She hated going to healers and when she finally did they were so bad they couldn't do anything for her. She left me the house. And Flekky."

"And she taught you how to use this, just as Nellie taught her," Obi-Wan stated.

"No."

The sadness in that one word drew his attention.

Susan took a long breath. "She didn't tell me about it. Even when I got here, when she was so sick."

"Perhaps there was a reason," he speculated softly.

She rubbed his arm, her touch meant to reassure herself, not him. "The warts were affecting her brain by then. She hardly recognized me half the time." She sighed into his hair.

"I only found out about this chamber in her diaries when I was going through everything. She hadn't used it in a long time. I suppose she just forgot," Susan reassured herself.

"After Nellie died, the _Enterprise_ moved on. Tillie never re-set the portal to an earlier version of the same world. There are infinite other worlds; you can do it as many times as you like, but it's a huge amount of work to set up new and she had a job high up in the Ministry and this kind of thing isn't exactly legal. So, she had to be careful. And I don't think it was that much fun for her anymore after Nellie was gone."

"So, What fantasy am I?" he wondered aloud. He imagined he might have liked Tillie for her choice to leave behind her Fantasy Chamber. Comfort seeped into his wounded body which did not care who it lay next to so long as they were warm.

"You," she answered with another hug, her tone becoming playful, "are Obi-Wan Kenobi. And I can't tell you anymore. That would spoil things. But," she sat up and his head slid down onto a softer part of her chest. "You need to eat something."

"Apparently, I can't eat anything you have here."

"I was going to use the capsules on your belt. But I don't know how to prepare them."

"Oh," Obi-Wan answered unenthusiastically into her plush, velvety bodice. "They're really only meant for survival. But I suppose they would do. The silver ones are better as supplements for starchy food. The gold ones are best by themselves with water."

"Could I make soup out of them? I opened one and just found brown powder. It didn't really smell like much."

"Yes. But you only need a little for a cup. Only as much as the end of your little finger."

Susan gently separated herself from him, tucking in the covers carefully under his chin before going away to her task. The curtains blocked his view, but he heard things thumping and water pouring. Soon she reappeared with her unappetizing cup of dissolved basic nutrients. She repositioned herself, sliding over the coverings to him, her arm supporting his shoulders. He did nothing to help or hinder her. When she brought the cup to his lips he sipped while her story sank into his thoughts.

He did not belong in this place. Deep inside him, every cell in his body felt constantly stressed as if with an infection. His body might mend, but he would never be healed. The essence of existence was off-center for him, but Susan, whose command of her powers did not extend beyond the words she called out, could not see that. She refused to.

Susan tilted the cup higher for him, for each sip. She seemed remarkably attentive to this simple task of pouring the fluid into his mouth, not going too fast, always pausing long enough for him to swallow. He took it in, though he had no appetite, drained away in the unhealthy reality of Susan's Fantasy Chamber. He wondered how her aunt's prisoners survived if she kept them for days. But he supposed that Aunt Tillie had been skilled enough to prevent her captives from seriously injuring themselves.

She took the cup away, empty. He licked his lips and stared forward. He knew he should have more questions. She was in the mood to talk and information could help him escape, help him return to his own world and Qui-Gon, who would still be waiting for his chance to retrieve him. But his body, perhaps now preoccupied with absorbing nourishment, relaxed next to her, his head falling to her velvet-covered bosom. Susan's hand rubbed the thick covering over his stomach and the repetitive motion and sound clouded his thoughts. He knew that sleep would not bring him rest, only unconsciousness, but he slid toward its darkness anyway, his last thoughts swirling around one possibility.

He wondered. . . . if he had fallen completely out of the field of Susan's protective room and been reduced to a skeleton and melted flesh, would Susan have just 'reset' her Fantasy Chamber and picked out another Obi-Wan Kenobi from the infinite worlds she said were available to her?

He was sure she would have.

**

* * *

~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~**

* * *

Susan was humming.

Without moving, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, but the canopy curtains blocked what she was doing. He swallowed, reviving saliva dampening the inside of his dry mouth, the back of his sore throat. The glands in his throat felt painfully swollen.

He was sure that he had slept for some time, but he still felt exhausted. While Susan moved about on the other side of the room, he tested his healing injuries, flexing muscles in place, testing his breathing. The bones of his knees had re-knitted, but still felt fragile. He could probably stand, but not run without risk of them disintegrating. His lungs felt good, even if the air in them didn't. He saw mottled bruises darkening the skin around his eyes. But the skin no longer felt tender and raw.

Susan kept humming. She had a strong, pleasant voice for music and now he caught glimpses of her. Swaying back and forth. Dancing to her cheerful tune. In her upraised arms she held up something white.

His tunic.

Smiling blissfully, she twirled with the empty Jedi tunic and tabbards.

Obi-Wan thought about his knees. Turning all his senses inward, blotting out Susan's weird little dance, Obi-Wan banished his weariness, drew the wisps of the Force to him, which seemed to have gotten murkier with time in Susan's room, and focused on healing himself.

- - - to be continued - - -


	7. Chapter 7

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

- - - Part 7 - - -

_Obi-Wan._

Qui-Gon's voice startled him out of a gray stupor. Had he slept again? Had he been dreaming?

On his left, the portal back into his world hung open again, blackness filling the doorway in the wall. Susan stood staring at a sparkling 'window' into it, her hands on her hips.

"What are you doing? Don't go in there you stupid, stupid elf," she hissed. "We don't need any more water. I can't see you. Just get the rest of their things before he comes back!" She bounced impatiently in place.

Obi-Wan brought his arms up under the covering, his fingers curving around the edge of it under his chin.

"Oh, finally!" Susan huffed. "Yes, get it all." She stepped back.

Flekky stepped through, tottering and all but hidden under the weight of the packs and gear from the cabin.

"Put them over there," She turned to point where she wanted him to go.

Behind her a green lightsaber snapped on, held high by Qui-Gon Jinn, stepping through the blackness. Susan gasped and, backing away, fumbled in a side pocket of her long dark blue tunic.

Obi-Wan threw the coverings off and pushed himself up from the sleep platform, clumsily, but his body did what he told it to.

"Qui-Gon!" he shouted.

Qui-Gon's eyes flicked toward him and then widened with shock, distress and distraction.

"Impedimenta!" Susan shouted. Qui-Gon went down, his legs whipped out from under him, his saber going out. But he rolled to the side, not back out through the portal. Obi-Wan steadied himself against one heavy carved canopy post to keep her from tripping him as well. Beyond Susan, he saw his clothes, neatly laid out and lined up on a table. And his lightsaber.

"Accio Lightsaber!" he called. It came swiftly to his outstretched hand, the blue blade coming to life. Obi-Wan saw his arm nearly covered with every color of bruise there could be.

Flekkly shrieked and, clutching his long ears, fled to the opposite side of the room.

"Get her wand!" he shouted.

"Confundo!" Susan yelled in panic, but his saber blade caught and absorbed the stream of purple light that came at him as Qui-Gon leaped up, his saber swinging.

"Prote - - !"

Qui-Gon's blade came hissing down on the small stick. A loud bang and a blinding white flash threw Susan and Qui-Gon back away from each other. Flekky screamed.

Still blinking from the after-image of the flash, Obi-Wan felt the floor rumble under his feet. He deactivated his lightsaber.

"Oh. Oh, no!" Susan cried from the floor, half her wand, with a charred end, still clutched in her hand. The room rumbled, ominous and low. "Oh no!" she wailed, sitting up from the floor.

"Obi-Wan!"

Extinguishing his saber, Qui-Gon rushed to him, putting his arm around him for support. Strong enough to stand on his own, Obi-Wan still felt grateful for the contact with Qui-Gon, fresh from their world, alive with the Force.

Then he saw the section of wall that led into Susan's world swinging open.

Flekkly screamed, hopping back and Susan, still on the floor, scrambled backwards from it, too.

Two Human males came through, both wearing black, open robes over tunics and pants. And they both held wands.

"Whoa! What is this?" The taller, reddish-haired one stared dumbfounded around him while Susan cowered further back into a corner. But the shorter dark-haired one stared at them through transparent black frames like a spindly pair of goggles. Qui-Gon's green saber came on again, the blade poised to strike the dark-haired man's wand, pointing at them.

"Whoa!" the red-haired one said again, astonished. "What is that?" The dark-haired one stared back as well. With recognition. Obi-Wan was sure of it. He knew what a lightsaber was.

The room rumbled around them, the things in it tinkling and rattling. The fire in the alcove sputtered wildly, throwing out sparks.

"He destroyed my wand!" Susan wailed, clutching the burned stump in her fist. She unsteadily stood, pushing back her long hair, tears running down her face. The two newcomers looked at her. The room rumbled. Louder.

"Uh, oh," the red-haired man said. "That's not good."

His face now frantic, the dark-haired one turned to them.

"We've got to get out of here! The charms around this place must have been tied to her wand. The magic is breaking down in here!" He extended his other arm toward Susan's gray world, but his wand arm remained pointed toward them..

Obi-Wan pulled back, his arm firmly around Qui-Gon whose lightsaber did not waver.

"We can't go there; we'll be killed! We came through this way!" he shouted back over the rising sound of the now constant shaking. Things fell out of cabinets, shattering on the ground. Pictures came off the walls.

The dark-haired man hesitated for only a moment. He pulled his wand back.

"We didn't come for you," he said. "We only want her!" He pointed to Susan. Then he looked at his comrade. "Ron!"

"Oh!" The other one seemed to remember that he was supposed to do something. He grabbed Susan, twisting one arm behind her back. "Come on, Missy," he said, pushing her toward the door, Flekky clinging to her skirts. "You're under arrest, for. . . . for a load of weird magic!"

The dark-haired man backed up toward the door after them, his eyes still fixed on Qui-Gon's lightsaber. Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon toward the shrouded portal. A crack split down the center of the floor as it disintegrated into crumbling gray ash. Chunks of ceiling fell.

Qui-Gon's saber went out, he whirled and pushed them both into the darkness.

For a second, Obi-Wan felt as if he were in free-fall, in the middle of total darkness. No stars. No air.

Then the floor of the cabin rushed at him, hitting him hard. He felt something in his chest crack. More than one something.

"Obi-Wan!"

Qui-Gon pulled him up, dragging him away, supporting him from behind. Obi-Wan saw the blackness filling the doorway before it contracted, folding in on itself and vanished with a final flash. Nothing remained of it in the now bare and very ordinary compartment. Footsteps sounded on the steps and floor of the cabin. Two other Jedi Knights, their expressions surprised as they looked toward the compartment, but Obi-Wan hardly noticed them. He sighed back into Qui-Gon and breathed deeply the fresh, sweet air around him. Even with the new pain in his chest it felt intoxicatingly good.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon said with concern, clutching his shoulders, but Obi-Wan just smiled up at him in happy relief, before everything went black.

**

* * *

~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~**  


* * *

Obi-Wan stirred back to consciousness. The first thing he saw was Qui-Gon's robe, pressed next to his cheek. He felt every one of his Master's steps on the uneven ground on the hill. His weight repeatedly lightened, then jolted in Qui-Gon's grasp with every downward step. One of the other Jedi walked with him. She (or he) wore a light brown robe and had prominent fleshy yellow head protrusions with tips that pointed in all directions. Very distinctive, but Obi-Wan could not recall this Jedi's name.

Motors whirred and a shadow fell on them. Their ship.

"N'Tak and I will take care of the Segoreth for you. They're still arguing on their home world," the other Jedi, a she, reassured them. "But I don't know how to put in words what we saw for the Council. I've never seen such blackness and do not know where such a disturbance in the Force could come from. Or where it went."

"It is gone for now and I am grateful for that. I will meditate later on the experience, but I think it best not to speculate on an explanation. There likely is none. I thank you for your assistance," Qui-Gon told their escort.

"The Force be with you," the other responded, stepping back from the ship. Qui-Gon went up the ramp. It lifted up behind them.

Their ship was simple. Pilot and co-pilot seats in front, storage areas in back where Qui-Gon had to stoop to keep from hitting his head on the overhead conduits, along with minimal facilities and a single fold out bunk. Qui-Gon laid him down on the thinly padded surface and then reached up to retrieve a flat, worn cushion for his head before going up to the pilot's seat and starting the engines. He normally left the piloting to Obi-Wan, but Qui-Gon was capable.

The ship lifted off and soon the forward ports showed star filled space. The displays on the navicomp shifted, thin lines and circles sliding into place, a course set for Coruscant and the Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon smoothly pulled down the hyperdrive lever and the stars streaked, the ship leaping into their journey through the nether-dimensions that allowed them to traverse vast distances across the galaxy. After clicking on the automated course tracking and confirming it with the ship's R3 unit, Qui-Gon stood, tossed off his robe and returned to the bunk, his expression grave with concern.

Obi-Wan saw what his Master saw. His bare chest and arms, a mass of bruises. As bad as it looked there was very little swelling, even in his face, since the damage was cellular.

Qui-Gon gently laid a hand on his chest, warmth spreading from it like new blood in Obi-Wan's veins.

"Do you need anything?"

"Could I have some water?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice rough and weak. Immediately, Qui-Gon went to the rear compartments and came back with a clear water packet. He held it while Obi-Wan sucked all the liquid from it through the drinking tube. Tepid from storage, it tasted sweeter than the air.

By the time he finished, Qui-Gon's concern had changed to bemusement. He took away the emptied packet and asked if he needed anything else.

"Is there anything to eat?" Obi-Wan asked. Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose. He turned back to the storage compartment, but all their supplies had been taken to the cabin and were now lost to Susan's Fantasy Chamber. Qui-Gon's hand went to one of the capsules on his belt.

"That would be fine," Obi-Wan told him.

Qui-Gon's dark blue eyes widened with more surprise, but he said nothing as he retrieved another water packet, container dish and utensil. He did not need to ask about preferences as he mixed a simple paste and flash warmed it in the tiny heating unit. They had shared many survival meals together. He retrieved lumpy pads from a high compartment that Obi-Wan could sit up against and he took out a large covering. He shook it out and spread it over Obi-Wan up to his stomach. Obi-Wan wiggled his bare and un-bruised toes under the fabric. His missed his boots.

Giving him the food paste, utensil and water packet, Qui-Gon sat on the deck next to the bunk. The med-kit was gone with the rest of their supplies.

"You have been sorely abused, my Padawan," Qui-Gon said, looking up, his arm resting on the bunk. Obi-Wan swallowed a bite with a sip of water.

"My injuries were not intentional," he said.

"Really?" Qui-Gon said, briefly touching his discolored and bruised arm.

"The woman you saw was from another world. Not from another place, from another. . . . reality. Not a healthy one for us to be in. I went too closely into her world and. . . . suffered the price."

"Did she not think to return you here?"

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes. "She did not understand her power. At least not well enough to see when others suffered from it." He took another bite. And another. The plain, simple nourishment tasted full of flavor to his starved appetite. Qui-Gon remained silently by him as he ate and drank.

"It is just as well that she has been apprehended by whatever authorities we saw take her away," Qui-Gon commented as he took the used packet and utensils and put them away in a disposal slot. "And her means of entering our world have been destroyed."

Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon and remembered what Susan had said about there being an infinite number of worlds to choose from.

And wondered if that meant that there were an equally infinite number of Susans to come after him?

"You are disturbed," Qui-Gon said, correctly sensing his thoughts.

"Yes," he admitted. Then he explained what he knew about Susan's Fantasy Chamber and how the Force worked in her world, transmuting matter and energy through words, but somehow with little thought or even instinct.

Qui-Gon sat down on the edge of the bunk when Obi-Wan told him about what Susan had said about there being an infinite number of worlds to which portals could be opened. Obi-Wan frowned when his Master appeared unconcerned.

"Then a portal could open here, right now. Or in the Temple after we return. If Susan wished to capture Jedi then that would be an optimal place," he said with a smile. Obi-Wan glanced around the small interior of their ship. "Do you think it could happen?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes," he answered seriously. "It could happen."

"Do you think it is likely?" Qui-Gon persisted.

Obi-Wan faltered. "No," he admitted. The disturbance of Susan's world had completely vanished, more thoroughly than any leaving or even death. It felt as if it had never existed. "But it did happen, Master."

"It did," he agreed and laid his hand over Obi-Wan's. Then he lifted it in both of his.

The bruising on Obi-Wan's hands and wrists was less severe than on his chest and shoulders, but some patches of bluish-black still marred them, even on his palms. Qui-Gon's undamaged hands held his gently. "And if it happens again, then we will face it again, as we do any other hazard in our service. Was this woman so much worse than anything else we have faced?"

Pressing his lips together, Obi-Wan thought about the corrupt profiteers, the warlords, slavers, pirates, rulers, torturers, bounty hunters and hired thugs that he and Qui-Gon had dealt with over the years. One of them would have killed Susan without a thought, before she could raise her wand to defend herself.

"No." He nodded. "But none of them were as strange." He sadly looked downward. "Or as personal."

Qui-Gon hands closed over his, warming it but without pressuring the bruises.

"What happened?"

Obi-Wan breathed in, feeling the Force strong between them, and started at the beginning, when he first felt the disturbance outside the cabin.

- - - to be continued - - -


	8. Chapter 8

**SCARY-SUE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 8 - EPILOGUE - - -**

"Hey Harry!" Ron Weasley called to Harry Potter as he came into the closet-sized offices they shared in the Auror's Offices at the Ministry of Magic. He waved a copy of the [i]Daily Prophet[/i] and then laid it on the nearest pile in front of Harry on his desk. It was folded back to one of the back pages and Harry's eyes went right to the column Ron pointed to.

"They're finally deporting Susan Rizzo back to America to her sister's family. Let them deal with her."

Harry scanned down the article, how she had been caught after a co-worker reported her to the Ministry after a partially botched confunding (both Harry and Ron were mentioned for arresting her). The review of the declaration of Rizzo's incompetence after her arrest and nervous breakdown and her stay at St. Mungo's where she had once been an apprentice healer.

"Twenty Thousands Galleons?!" Harry exclaimed when he got down to something he didn't already know.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Her sister's going to do pretty well selling those diaries. [i]The Secret Lives of Nellie Wenderhome and Tillie Rizzo[/i]. They were both in the Wizengamot and her aunt was in the Ministry. Dumbledore knew her! Forty thousand galleons!" He rolled his eyes. "I guess crime pays after all."

"I don't know," Harry shook his head. "Is forty thousand galleons worth losing your wand?"

"Not for me," Ron shuddered with a protective pat over the pocket of his Auror's robe where he kept his wand.

Harry looked further but there was little more, other than the expected release date (next year) of the 'scandalous' tell-all book.

"I can't believe they did all that for Muggle stuff. Muggle fantasies, yet. What kind of fantasies can you have without magic?" Ron asked, parking himself on the edge of the desk, almost dislodging another pile of folders. "What was that green thing that big one had, just before they got away?"

"A lightsaber. And that 'big one' was a Jedi Knight," Harry said, repeating what he had already told Ron several times, which he always had to do for anything to do with Muggles. Ron's brain seemed incapable of really comprehending or retaining anything Muggle for very long, mostly because, unlike his father, he didn't really care about it. "They were in videos my cousin had. They have new ones now, but Dudley complains that they're not as good as the old ones, but his kids like them."

"Weird," Ron commented, scratching under his collar, as if Harry was talking about space aliens. Then Harry realized that he really [i]was[/i] talking about space aliens. So, perhaps Ron was justified in his amazement.

Harry put the [i]Daily Prophet[/i] aside and dug out a folder. He swatted Ron to get him off his desk and took out the notes for their next case.

**

* * *

~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~(O)~~~**

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi fell asleep in the bacta tank, a common occurrence when immersed in a body-temperature-warmed healing solution. But it made waking up to the water rinse and air blast dry very disorienting. And even the most carefully designed and well programmed medical droid never seemed to be very good at easing the experience.

That was why Obi-Wan was very glad to see Qui-Gon Jinn waiting for him. After the droids had scanned him, removed the remaining body sensors and bacta tank harness, his Master helped steady him on his feet. They stood next to a mirrored wall and Obi-Wan viewed the results of the treatment. Only soreness remained and the bruises had faded and paled like smudges all over his chest and arms. The injuries would be completely healed in a few days. Obi-Wan leaned close to examine his face. The bruising seemed darker there, especially under his eyes.

"I'm sure Susan would still find you attractive," Qui-Gon noted, leaning next to him in the mirror. Obi-Wan grimaced back before letting him help put on the med-center's shapeless white body covering. Then Qui-Gon knelt and held a pair of padded slippers that his apprentice slid his feet into, one at a time.

After healing in the bacta tank, the prescription for Obi-Wan now was to walk, to strengthen his body with light exercise. Qui-Gon went with him.

They left the sterile treatment rooms of the med center and entered the wide corridors of the recovery areas. Plants growing under sunlight panels lined the columned walls. Other Jedi, injured, sick, or visiting strolled by in groups of twos and threes, some quietly conversing or even laughing. All were smiling, or at least solemn, at peace. While Obi-Wan concentrated on his own body, the healing atmosphere around him flowed into him. The Force was strong here. The air smelled like living things. Qui-Gon paced him, not just minding him, but enjoying the place as well as he told Obi-Wan about his meeting with the Jedi Council.

A search of the Jedi Archive had revealed no reference to anything like the phenomenon that they had witnessed. Droid scanners sent to the planet confirmed that no trace of it remained. And the Segoreth were still arguing amongst themselves, leaving the Jedi who had come to help them still waiting. The Council said that they would meditate on what had happened, but Obi-Wan doubted that even Master Yoda's wisdom would reveal any more than what they knew now.

The Council wanted to speak with Obi-Wan as well, but only after he had recovered. The mission had been unaffected and they were in no hurry to tackle an unsolvable mystery. The Council was just as likely to settle for viewing the holocron that he and Qui-Gon would record for the Archive. Later.

They reached the end of the corridor and turned, passing through an archway into a large room, parts of it divided by more rows of columns and lines of potted plants. Water spouted upward from a central fountain. Both of them had been to this place, to visit others or recover themselves. This one was optimized for most Humanoid species for serenity that soothed the weary and injured. They recognized a few people, but greetings were not necessary.

Obi-Wan turned and looked up to his Master when he heard a sigh.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan asked, thinking back about the events that they had spoken of. "Have you rested since we returned from the planet?"

They had spoken during the entire trip back to Coruscant, Obi-Wan telling his story about Susan, Flekky and what he had seen and been told of their world. Qui-Gon, instinctively knowing that Obi-Wan had been trapped by it but unable to cross the blackness of Susan's portal, had waited in a long sleepless vigil for his chance to break through, pausing only to com their ship's R3 unit to call for help from the Jedi Temple. His opportunity came when Flekky came to collect their things. As Obi-Wan had expected, a Jedi mind influence had easily convinced the house elf to betray his mistress. But only in their own world.

"No," Qui-Gon replied, relaxed and not looking too weary, but Obi-Wan knew the subtle signs, the deepened lines on the face, the few wisps of hair, escaped from the tail-tie keeping the rest of his Master's long hair in place.

"Then you should," Obi-Wan said. He walked to a far wall lined with padded benches. His gait was almost normal with returning strength and confidence in his knees. Sitting down, he patted the place next to him.

Looking a little obstinate, Qui-Gon took his robe off, rolled it up put it next to his Padawan. Then he lay down on the bench, his long body stretched out away from Obi-Wan, his head resting on the robe. Leaning back on the bench's tall support behind him, Obi-Wan felt clean and washed of the stain of that other place, though he knew there was nothing wrong with it.

Susan, Flekky and the others had belonged there. He did not. The essence of his being could not mix with that world, like oil and water. And he realized that Susan would have faced the same discord, even with whatever protections she used, when she confronted Qui-Gon in the cabin. Had she felt the wrongness inside her? Perhaps. But he doubted that either she or Flekky would have recognized the source. If Susan, or anyone else from any other world, ever appeared, he would have to warn them about the danger.

Next to him, Qui-Gon was already asleep. Obi-Wan lightly laid a hand on his head.

This was his world.

**- - - END - - -**

(This story was also posted on tf.n - Feb-2009)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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